


hold everything dear

by isshun



Series: Down the Rabbit Hole [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, companion fic to falling falling but it can be read as a standalone i guess, kuroko likes being kuroko and messes around with ppl (kind of), uhhh extremely overdue fic, what is fic what is writing what is life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isshun/pseuds/isshun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Furihata is, love stays.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>So, when he informs Kuroko of his noble intentions to garner the affections of Furihata Kouki and inquired if the brunet was allergic to anything, Kuroko only scoffs quietly in a very Kuroko manner and replies in a very Kuroko manner as well.</p>
  <p>“If anything, Akashi-kun,” he uses <i>that</i> tone reserved for poking fun at the Generation of Miracles (Akashi in particular) at times like these, “I’m sure Furihata-kun would be allergic to <i>you.</i>”</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	hold everything dear

**Author's Note:**

> *slinks into room* hi. this is waaaayyyy overdue but uh, yeah, life got in the way. search parties for lost muse yielded negative results for months. i'm sorry ;; 
> 
> *slinks out of room into the fiery pits of hell where i belong*

 

 

_thy loving smile will surely hail_

_the love-gift of a fairy tale._

 

 

✽

 

 

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> Are you sure you want to purchase 100 red roses for $400.00? Click ‘Yes’ to proceed with payment details or ‘No’ to return to home.

 

 

_Click._

 

 

 

 

> _Please confirm your details before proceeding with payment._
> 
> _Credit Card Holder: Akashi Seijuro_
> 
> _Product: Ultimate 100 Rose Hand-tied_
> 
> _Price: $400.00_
> 
> _Recipient: Furihata Kouki_
> 
> _Date of collection: XX/XX/XXX_
> 
> _Card contents: Dear Furihata Kouki, I am interested in commencing a courtship ritual with you. Please go out with me. —Sincerely, Akashi Seijuro_
> 
>  
> 
> Proceed                                                  Cancel

 

 

_Click._

 

 

 

 

 

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✽

 

 

In retrospect, it seemed such a brilliant idea to send Furihata flowers. Pink and red roses, to be exact. He had done the best he could with proper research on the internet, Mibuchi had gave him two thumbs up and a crushing bear hug overly affectionate for his liking, and he had specifically consulted his horoscope reading of the day on Midorima’s trusted fortune reading website (not that he believes in such blasphemy, Akashi is just of the opinion that it’s better to be prepared and know that his chances of success are on higher side).

Stopping by the pavement in this unfamiliar residential area he’s terribly unfamiliar with, Akashi retrieves his phone from his pocket with his free hand and double checks the text blurb stored in his email from his newly-subscribed account on the Oha Asa website.

 

 

 

 

> _The Full Moon is in your sign today, with the Sun’s square to Neptune in your 4th House of Foundations, let yourself fall down the romantic rabbit hole and don't be afraid to channel that inner passion to your beloved. Go forth, be free, and be rewarded with an abundance of love from Uranus._

 

Right. Neptune. Uranus. _The moon._ Akashi is a genius but he is no astrologer who can deduce fortunes and misfortunes from simply staring at a round yellow moon. He’s not sure what sort of sun would be in the shape of a square (aren’t all of them balls of hot gases?) or since when his birth date had entitled him to so many ‘Houses of Foundations’ (he has _four_ of them, sweet pie of god. Are they valuable landed property?!? Can he invest in them???), but what he knows about houses other than their market share and value is that according to Kuroko’s text last week, Furihata Kouki’s living quarters is just somewhere along this stretch of endless terrace houses, doorbell waiting to be rung and, as per Mibuchi’s words, the moment Furihata opens the door, everything will be perfect.

The last sentence of his daily astrology reading resounds in his mind. _‘Go forth, be free, and be rewarded with an abundance of love from Uranus’._ Yes. This sounds reassuring enough, Akashi supposes, extra points of success for the victory he’s absolutely certain to achieve.

Akashi Seijuro is absolute. Things will not go wrong.

The moment he walks up the driveway of the Furihatas and knocks politely on the door, bouquet in hand, Akashi Seijuro is positive this is the very instant that will spark a lifetime of joyous companionship more than enough to last them for eternity.

He doesn’t take into account the possibility of Furihata slamming the door shut in shock upon his arrival and the hyperventilation that takes place for the next few hours, but no matter. Akashi is always ready to come up with Plan B. He pretends to unsee the shock and fear in the brunet’s eyes and the tremor drilled in that soft, tiny voice squeaking replies to his every word and continues to dish out smiles like they’ve known each other since their mothers were neighbours (figuratively speaking. akashi is sure if his late mother were alive, she’d definitely get along with Mrs Furihata).

When Furihata hesitantly, shyly accepts that bouquet, his cheeks flush like the red skies of a sweet early sunrise and it makes Akashi smile, and hope that slowly but surely, the day would come where two people can fall in love so everything else can fall into place.

 

 

✽

 

 

Nobody said loving Furihata would be an easy task, Akashi Seijuro knows this much. Loving Furihata was hard.

No, Akashi takes that statement back. _Courting_ Furihata Kouki was hard. From what little (but sufficient) interaction they could share, Akashi observes that the brunet must’ve been made of nothing but bundles of jittery nerves, nervous squeaks as his default responses when Akashi approaches him within a five-foot radius. He honestly looks like he’d shatter into irretrievable shards if Akashi so much as twitches a finger in front of him, and truth be told Akashi is actually, for once, running out of ideas on the best method to approach the brunet without sounding the fire alarm in his romantic interest’s head and sending him into a state of constant petrification.

_“Space, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko reminds him again and again, “Furihata needs his own time and space to get used to you.”_

It stings a little to know that Furihata is deathly terrified of him, but somewhere between the frantic responses and embarrassed splutters of protest, Akashi has fallen, straight from the tip of the Akashi Conglomerate skyscraper 70 storeys tall right down to the burning core of the Earth where love sears across his skin and seeps into his heart, sweeping away the remains of the cold, frosty winter air like spring born anew.

It’s like Furihata is simply beckoning him to enter a world made for them both. As time passes, the brunet’s nervous vibes eventually reshapes itself into tiny surges of confidence coursing through his veins, and his smiles paint them both castles of dreams and a future Akashi has never ever thought of before. It’s a drug, the euphoria that comes with soft, quiet touches exchanged privately beneath tables or behind closed doors, and Akashi finds himself wandering deeper and deeper into this newfound world in search of something only Furihata can provide him, and no amount of Yen could ever buy him the happiness and warmth he experiences when Furihata smiles his way (so shyly his heart soars past the universe, sprinkling dying constellations in its wake).

The scenery of love blooming into stars is too much for one person to admire alone. Akashi wants to share this with the brunet, because people share things they treasure most with the people they love, they give their loved ones the best they can provide and sacrifice themselves for the rest that cannot be achieved. While Akashi brings him to lavish eateries with the nation’s finest cheeses and freshest seafood, Furihata brings the redhead to tiny, isolated ramen bars that taste like home and _feel like home._ Home in this small, warm food stall by the roadside with only Furihata sitting close beside him, with food that costs less than one fifth of his weekly allowance yet took the brunet three days to save up enough for both of them to dine in, yes, Akashi would like to call this place home, because home is where Furihata exists.

So, when he informs Kuroko of his noble intentions to garner the affections of Furihata Kouki and inquired if the brunet was allergic to anything (flowers? synthetic fur of fluffy teddy bears that Akashi wants to courier a boxful to the brunet’s house? peanut butter?), Kuroko only scoffs quietly in a very Kuroko manner and replies in a very Kuroko manner as well.

“If anything, Akashi-kun,” he uses _that_ tone reserved for poking fun at the Generation of Miracles (Akashi in particular) at times like these, “I’m sure Furihata-kun would be allergic to _you._ ”

Akashi’s eyebrow twitches. “What’s that supposed to mean, Tetsuya?”

“Nothing of importance, Akashi-kun,” the little spawn of satan smiles innocently over the phone line, “it simply means good luck. You’ll need it, lots of it. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

And then he hangs up. Nobody hangs up on Akashi Seijuro without him saying goodbye first unless they lost their will to live, Kuroko is the first.

But Akashi lets it slide this time. There are more important matters on his hands currently, such as Furihata Kouki, and Akashi’s brilliant mind is already planning and visualising the next time they will coincidentally bump into each other on the streets of Tokyo and commence a whirlwind romance that would certainly blast best-selling shoujo manga titles off the ranking charts and put all editors and artists alike to shame.

Alas, life is not a bed of roses. One must work hard to achieve their goals. Akashi understands completely the saying ‘no pain, no gain’ (despite the fact that victory just flocks to him as easily as the girls in Rakuzan do), but the process courting Furihata Kouki is what must be the first time he’s actually experienced the implications of that old saying.

Pain. It pains him to witness love unfold so slowly, so unsurely in front of his eyes. The mixed signals Furihata sends his way is so frustratingly misleading his patience wanes into one fine, thin line on the brink of snapping into two. Furihata sends him discreet glances and shy smiles, but he also sends him terrified and wary vibes telling him to stay far far away and never touch nor approach him within a five foot mile radius on a nervous day.

But, the tension and fear bleed out of the brunet’s eyes when Akashi reassures him again and again with soft smiles and gentle touches. He allows Furihata breathing space, he shoulders the pressure alone and waits for Furihata to take the initiative and approach him, because it is clear as day that their relationship won’t work unless Furihata is comfortable with the pace they’re going, be it brief farewell hugs in public or slow, burning touches behind closed doors in private. The joy Akashi feels when Furihata initiates these little gestures of affection is more than enough to triumph the frustration of waiting for the brunet to take a step outside his comfort zone, so he decides to take a backseat and let momentum take them wherever they’ll go, as long as they’re headed for the right direction where a future for two awaits.

And when they’re past all obstacles of bashfulness and hesitance, when Furihata finally utters his given name and they share their first kiss beneath that cherry blossom tree amidst the soft glow of the lantern lights, Akashi cannot be any happier. Furihata tries his very best for himself, for them both, and it’s reassuring to know that the brunet likes and wants this connection between them as much as Akashi wants him, wants to feel that comforting warmth in his arms close to his chest, wants to kiss him senseless until time dissolves away at their feet and all that’s left is their love bursting into flames on an eternal summer campfire.

Furihata’s determination to work harder, try harder for the both of them after the Hanatoro festival only serves to propel them further, deeper into the rabbit hole. Even though Akashi believes that the brunet is being unnecessarily ridiculous (honestly, no one is ever the same; Akashi is not the epitome of perfection Furihata likes to imagine him as, even though the redhead does try his best to attain the best possible outcomes of success), it’s endearing to see Furihata try so hard just for his sake — studying harder than usual, practising basketball more than usual, and trying his very best to read up on international current affairs just so he can be intellectually on a par with Akashi.

But as time goes by and reality sets in, Furihata might have taken this a bit too seriously in Akashi’s opinion. No one should try to be something they can’t be in the first place, and the Red Emperor embraces the notion of individuality that allows room for creativity and innovation. This isn’t to say that Akashi is of the opinion that his beloved Kouki is incompetent in trying to mould himself into society’s warped image of what young adults should be, but to Akashi, Furihata is Furihata, free-spirited and boisterous (sometimes, when he’s not busy being shy) and full of bubbling youth and joy. And sparkles, lots and lots of sparkles. But as of late, Akashi notices that the usual spark in the brunet’s eyes have dimmed until they’re barely there, his movements are a little more sluggish and less nimble than usual, and Akashi finds that more than once he has to quietly, gently remind his beloved that one can never find stock tables in the teletext, and that there is no point trying to decipher stock tables after stock tables if you never understood it from the very beginning.

It’s a thin, fine line between trying to balance his role as supportive boyfriend and concerned boyfriend. From what Akashi has observed, Furihata has developed a mild inferiority complex that stems from his self-consciousness and low self-esteem. Whenever Akashi attempts to dissuade his lover from taking up an insanely difficult task he knows the brunet dislikes as second nature, the latter enters into this defensive, passive-aggressive mode that Akashi honestly never knew existed in him.

Surprise, surprise. But the redhead doesn’t mind, he lives and thrives for surprises like these. They make life more interesting and difficult to predict and Akashi was never one to dislike challenges, especially when it presents itself in front of him in the form of Furihata Kouki.

But still, at this rate, Akashi doesn’t need to use his Emperor Eye to predict that Furihata will burn out soon. Now that won’t do, Akashi will never allow that to happen.

“I hope you understand that you are the cause of it all, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko states bluntly over the phone when Akashi phones him to inquire Furihata’s true state of wellbeing. The brunet has been evading his phone calls as of late, only answering when he has to get off the phone in a minute or so. It’s obvious from Furihata's lies that things are not fine. Akashi is aware that these lies are just to reassure him and prevent that mother hen nature of his from emerging, but the brunet is the worst liar one could ever come across. A game of poker would destroy him in three minutes flat. But hush, what Furihata doesn’t know won’t kill him.

“Yes, Tetsuya, I am aware of that. Do you think that I have not tried to dissuade him from this a long time ago?”

After a moment of silence, Akashi swears he can hear Kuroko shrug.

“Being friends with a genius like you isn’t something as easy as baking pie, let alone go out with you.”

Akashi sighs. “So what do you propose I do? Bid him goodbye and never see him again?”

He meant it as a joke, but when the silence drags on a moment too long, Akashi realises that Kuroko is actually seriously considering this as a possible course of action. Blasphemous. Akashi would never leave Furihata behind or alone.

“That,” the Phantom Sixth man hums, deep in thought, “may be the most suitable solution to your problem—”

Akashi protests but is silenced by Kuroko’s disregard for interruptions.

“—but I think your best course of action for now, judging by current events and circumstances, would be to call Furihata-kun and comfort him, no? In case you were unaware, Akashi-kun, Furihata-kun has just lost the election for Library Committee Chairperson this morning. He hasn’t stopped mulling over it yet, at least, not even after practice ended.”

Akashi disconnects immediately and dials the one number he knows by heart.

But nobody picks up. When the dial tone gets a bit too much to listen to, Akashi resorts to texting Furihata about his unreasonable behaviour.

_Why aren’t you answering my calls, Kouki?_

Furihata replies two minutes later.

**_aaaaah, sry!! im at a fren’s house._ **

Akashi’s eyebrows arch so majestically, so fucking high they almost disappear into his hairline. He has to admit, the brunet’s got guts to lie so blatantly in his face.

_Oh really? Even though it’s already close to midnight on a weekday?_

Furihata’s reply doesn’t arrive until a few minutes too late. He knows he’s been exposed. Akashi chuckles quietly to himself as his eyes scan through lines of chatspeak that would make his late literature tutor roll in her grave.

**_its a sleepover... & y r u insisting i answ ur calls anyway? its already l8 night! i culd b sleeping 4 all u noe!_ **

_I’m just concerned about you, Kouki. You know your wellbeing is my number one concern. I hate to see you upset, especially when I can’t be there to comfort you._

Seconds after he taps on the ‘reply’ button, Akashi’s phone screen lights up with a call all the way from a tiny room in Tokyo.

“Kuroko told you, didn’t he?” Furihata croaks from the other end of the line the moment Akashi picks up the call. Despite static interference, it’s obvious from his cracked voice that he’s been crying all day, and it tears Akashi’s heart into shreds. “Damn it, I told him to keep it from you!”

He makes a mental note to thank Kuroko later for not withholding this vital piece of information from him.

“Kouki, it’s okay to be upset, but I do wish you would share your unhappiness with me every time. It’s not fair to keep me in the dark and lie to me you’re alright when you’re not. I want to be there for you.”

The line goes quiet with sniffles. Akashi continues to placate and comfort the brunet the best he can.

“I wanted to surprise you, you know?” Furihata sobs quietly when he’s composed himself enough to speak, “I wanted to make you proud of me.”

Oh Kouki, Kouki, his dearly beloved Kouki.

“But I am proud of you, Kouki. I always am, please never forget that.”

 

 

✽

 

 

To make up for that bitter taste of defeat lingering at the back of Furihata’s tongue, Akashi decides to make a surprise trip to Tokyo on a rare weekend they can afford to spare. Third year of high school isn’t easy, there are career forms to be filled, cram schools to attend after class, basketball practices to oversee and competition strategies to formulate and test out so they can wipe the court clean with their overwhelming strength and pave the way to victory.

"Akashi-kun?" Furihata blinks when the redhead shows up on his doorstep, duffel bag slung across his shoulder, looking so glamorous like a runway model who escaped from Paris fashion week. It’s a stark contrast to the brunet who stands at his doorway in nothing but a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants, but to Akashi, Furihata still looks like an angel from heaven. Togas are way past season, so out of fashion, Akashi dictates that t-shirts and sweatpants be the standard uniform for cupids and celestial beings from this moment on.

"Seijuro," the redhead corrects. Furihata tends to revert to the friendly surname-basis when taken aback by shock, Akashi is still trying to quash this bad habit.

"Why- I didn’t- What- Huh? What are you doing here?"

“Pack your bags.”

“... What?”

 

 

✽

 

 

“I seriously thought you wanted to elope or something.” Furihata buries his face into his hands in burning shame as Akashi unlocks the door to his private apartment in Tokyo. It’s a gift his late mother had left him in her will, and Akashi has specially reserved this little haven for times in need like this — a quick weekend getaway (from school and everything weighing down his shoulders) to immerse and lose himself in the hustle and bustle of the metropolitan. The anonymity that comes with large crowds is strangely comforting.

“What made you think so, Kouki?” The corners of his lips quirk upwards in affection. Furihata is too adorable for his own good, too pure for this world, his entire existence is a magical healing potion itself, which is why Akashi must have him present when he goes on a spiritual retreat to discard his alter ego and hole himself up away from the world for a while.

“Nobody shows up in front of someone’s doorstep without warning unless they’re up to no good, Seijuro.”

Akashi chuckles in response. “Is that so?” He hums, fingers flitting across pale forearms before closing around their wrists and tugging forward. He takes immense pleasure in the way Furihata’s face lights up like a red lantern as he stumbles awkwardly into his arms. Furihata is warm, so warm.

“Seijuro—”

“Let’s just stay like that for a while.”

They fill the silence of the room with steady breaths and the rhythm of their hearts beating in tandem for the rest of the day. The meaning behind Akashi’s gestures are clear as blue skies to Furihata, because Furihata is the only one who can read him like an open book, worming his way through the bends and folds, sifting his way through pages of undecipherable codes of body language Akashi can’t help but scribble in his default self-defence mechanism.

Thumbs caressing smooth, rosy cheeks: _smile for me. I love you._

Hands gently resting on the small of the brunet’s back: _stay, please stay._

It’s like their personal code for displays of affection towards each other, and Akashi finds out through less-than-favourable circumstances that his little quirks could actually be used back at him when the situation calls for it.

“Is there anything you feel like doing today, Kouki?” Akashi asks as they unpack side by side. He takes in the way his beloved pauses slightly, and observes those long eyelashes lowering in thought before fluttering back up, like butterfly wings taking off with such grace. Bat. Bat, bat. These lashes are so thick, so long, so powerful Akashi is certain they can produce enough energy to power up Tokyo city and light a fire in his heart that will never die.

“Shopping?” Akashi probes further, laying out options he knows the brunet enjoys.

Furihata side-eyes him, much to his surprise. “And let you pay for everything and buy me the entire Shibuya district? No thanks, I’m good.”

“Kouki please, that was one time—”

“You splurge too much on all these luxuries. You rich people and your crazy spending habits—”

“It was just a meal, Kouki. It’s normal for fine dining to cost that amount—”

“10,000 yen is _not normal_ —”

“Fine, then I will let you pay for your own share, as long as it’s a reasonable price. We can take the train downtown instead of the car. You like observing the railway stations, don’t you?”

Furihata purses his lips, torn between wanting to drain his misery with mindless window shopping and stopping the redhead from overindulging him in every way possible. Come to think of it, Akashi realises that the brunet seems to have issues with them going out together every time. He’s been having his own reservations on this matter lately, but perhaps it’s time to find out once and for all Furihata’s reasons for rejecting his offer to visit the malls. Rejection stings; Akashi thinks he should have already attained sainthood for tolerating his beloved’s unreasonable refusals for such a long time.

“You dislike going out with me, don’t you?”

Furihata stiffens. Well, perhaps ‘dislike’ was too strong a term to use but…

“N-No! I like being with you!” The brunet stammers a beat too slow.

“Kouki, being with me and going out with me are two different matters altogether. Be honest with yourself, please.”

Furihata shifts his eyes and avoids Akashi’s steely eyes. Furihata is a bad liar, Akashi can sniff out his lies and guilt within a ten-mile radius like a well-trained guard dog attuned specifically to the brunet’s mind waves and body language.

“Is it because people stare at us?” he asks, when the silence has dragged on for too long. He wants to put a stop to this unsettling feeling of dread churning in his stomach once and for all. But, Furihata continues to surprise him time and time again when his head snaps up and fixes Akashi with a hard, frustrated glare.

“People? Stare? God, Akashi, I couldn't care less if people stared at us, I’m upset because people stare at you! Don’t tell me you’re oblivious to the way girls giggle and whisper every time you pass by. Just don’t. It's like you're a magnet for admiration and praise and 99% of all things good.”

“99%? Humour me, Kouki, what happened to that one percent?”

Furihata looks away bitterly and quietly points to himself. Akashi frowns, and tugs the brunet forward into his arms.

"Kouki."

Said boy still refuses to look at him.

_"Kouki."_

"What." it's a defeated sigh, quiet and full of despair. How can someone sound so empty yet full of sadness at the same time? Akashi wants to wipe away the traces of anguish and paint a castle of dreams filled with rainbows of happiness and joy onto Furihata's sad heart. He wants to leave footprints that will guide the brunet towards Akashi's unyielding, neverending love for him and shower him with affection and care. The only criminal offence the brunet is allowed to commit is steal Akashi's heart time and time again with that blinding bright smile of his until there’s nothing more left that he can offer.

So, Akashi tilts his lover's chin upwards (gently, because Furihata deserves nothing less than pure admmiration and fondness), and rests his thumbs on cheeks hollowed from stress and fatigue.

_Smile, please smile._

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me." he says quietly, sincerely, and takes joy in seeing that lovely blush bloom across Furihata's cheeks into life.

"I-I don't think so."

"But I do," Akashi smiles and leans closer to murmur "and I am absolute." before he presses their lips together for a slow, sweet kiss.

 

 

✽

 

 

The afternoon sun shines on the bustling streets of Shibuya on a typical busy weekend, the crowd unfazed by the stifling heat as their feet shuffle across concrete pavement to reach their next destination.

Akashi likes moments like these, where he gets lost in the crowd and no one ever glances at him nor do they stop him for handshakes as the sucessor to the Akashi Conglomerate. It’s times like these that Furihata pulls them forward, bracing through the flood of tourists as they visit from shop to shop. Akashi likes seeing that rare, subtle glow around the brunet’s being when it comes to leisurely activities he enjoys. Nothing beats Furihata’s bright, innocent smile in making Akashi feel at peace.

Where Furihata is, love stays.

Curious is life and the workings of romance and affection. As Furihata scoots closer to take a picture of them in a record store (of all places), Akashi can’t help but sink further into this cocoon of warmth until there is no going back. So, he wraps an arm around the brunet’s waist and watches the way pink lips curve upwards and the way hazel eyes disappear into upturned cheeks.

Defying gravity — Akashi’s heart feels like flying too.

And days later, when time flies past and the weekend has left one of them standing alone on the platform and the other on the shinkansen back to Kyoto (after bidding Furihata goodbye with a heavy heart), Akashi .

**_miss u already_** , the subject writes.

Akashi swallows that lodge of bitterness and despondency down his trachea, mentally calculating the time it would take for him to be able to hear his lover’s voice again, see his lover in person and exchange soft touches and ardent gazes with each other. Two days is not enough; a lifetime barely so.

But these photographs will have to do, Akashi muses as he scrolls through each photograph with utmost fondness until he reaches the last one. He tries to pick out a favourite, but all efforts seem futile because it turns out that he can’t choose. Every single photograph is his favourite and how could he ever choose when Furihata is in every one of them, grinning and laughing and signaling peace signs to the camera with such enthusiasm enough to make the world believe things will be alright again. Maybe not now, but one day they will be. The strength of faith that stems from the love and kindness of others is enough to convince him so.

The last is what makes Akashi’s heart ache. It’s a good kind of ache though, the kind that brings about your resolution and determination to see things through so one day you’ll get to experience the amount of joy you did the first time round.

The moment is captured in time-lapse photography, 5 frames - the first, Furihata is turning around, second, he notices the camera, perplexed at first, but then his lips curve into a parabola, frame by frame as the print emerges like orange sunrise filtering across early dawn skies.

And the last, a smile, so blinding—

—the brightest.

 

 

✽

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 80% of this was written the same time as falling, falling. but when life got too busy and the plot bunnies went on strike idk why i just couldn't write anymore. so the remaining 20% was written during brief, sudden bouts of inspiration, which is why it turned out weird and choppy and horrible and repetitive etc orz orz orz 
> 
> this was supposed to focus on them getting into todai together tbh, but somehow somewhere along the way it turned into a fic full of ooc, cheesy, cringeworthy descriptions about akashi's love for his chihuahua's smile. and the chihuahua. never forget the chihuahua. 
> 
> tl;dr - I AM SORRY FOR THIS. BUT THANK YOU FOR READING.


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